Free Fall of the Western Kings (Tirumfall Trilogy Book 1) by J Drew Brumbaugh Page B

planned.”
    “Talth turned out to be less efficient in deed than in word.  They did ambush Gant, as agreed, but shot only Gant's insignificant friend and when they saw Sir Jarlz, they turned and fled.”
    Barlon scowled.  “Then Sir Jarlz is not in Netherdorf.”
    “True, Sire.  He has gone with Gant to Devonshield.”
    Barlon rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking.  “All is not lost.  We may have to postpone our attack until after Devonshield.”
    “How's that, my Lord?” asked Razgoth.
    “Fool. Capturing Netherdorf without capturing Sir Jarlz ruins the plan and the amulet becomes worthless.  We’ll wait until he returns.  In the meantime, Shalmuthe, what about Talth?”
    “I think he should be eliminated,” growled the master spy.  “Failure is not acceptable.”
    “Failure is not acceptable.  Cowardice even less. We've no use for gutless vermin.  See that he's taught a permanent lesson that others will not miss.”
    “Consider it done.”  Shalmuthe turned to go.
    “Make sure you let me know when Sir Jarlz returns to Netherdorf.”
    “And make sure we know the results of Devonshield,” added Razgoth.
    Shalmuthe waved over his shoulder without turning and hurried off.
    Razgoth leaned forward in his chair, took a drink of water.  “Sire,” he began, “what shall we do if Gant wins Devonshield?”
    Barlon shook his head.  “You are concerned about the prophecy.  Are you familiar with the details?”
    “I’ve heard it often enough.”
    “Let me refresh your memory.  First a descendant of Bartholomew must win at Devonshield.  After which he is supposed to receive a sword powerful enough to kill Varg.  I’m guessing the dark elves have it hidden somewhere.  We know Gant is such a descendant, so if he wins, he still must get this magic sword. If you think about it, the sword he carries is a nice piece of work but it is hardly the kind of weapon that would concern Varg.  No, for now I don’t see any reason to worry.  We’ll keep track of Gant and if he wins and suddenly has a new sword, then we will disarm him or kill him.”
    Razgoth thought about his liege lord's words and a plan took shape.  A smile crossed his face.  “That's when Egog will be of service.  A service I did not foresee.”
    Barlon sighed.  “There are lots of things you don't foresee.  Sometimes I wonder if you are a wizard at all.”
    “But sire,” choked Razgoth, “not all wizards are good at seeing the future.”
    “Obviously.”
     
     

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 12
     
     
    G ant and Jarlz ate a hearty meal with Abadis.  The food was delicious even though Gant couldn’t identify anything on the table.  It all seemed to be concoctions of ground and powdered vegetables, grains, and nuts.  It was tastier than anything Gant could remember since his last meal at home.  That reminded him of his mother and father.  He wondered how they were and whether he would ever see them again.
    While they ate, Abadis and Uncle Jarlz talked lightly of past events and of recent happenings.  Finally Abadis cleared the table and gave them each a sparkling, crystal glass containing a translucent violet liquid.  The aroma was euphoric.  The flavor even better.
    “So.  Gant is to enter the competition?” started Abadis once they were all settled back around the table.  “If Jarlz says you're ready, then I don't doubt it's true. I should warn you that Zeigone will be there to defend his crown.  A nastier champion there has never been. Three times he's won and never left a man alive to fight another day.  He's a scoundrel, a skillful one which makes him all the more dangerous.”
    “I'll wager Gant will show him a trick or two,” said Jarlz winking at Gant.
    “As for tricks, Zeigone has a few himself. He's won the last two titles by slashing his opponent's forearms. He uses a deft twist of the wrist that’s very effective.  No one’s been able to defend against it and believe me they’ve tried.”
    “What